


Shudder and Squirm

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Series: Wetworks [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:31:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, someone else had to control him. Just for a while, just long enough to get him focused, to maybe come out the other side of it. And if that meant taking him along for an observation job, that was what Bastian had to do. The fact that it made him twitch every time Jim moved, well. That was just something he had to live with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shudder and Squirm

There was very little that could be more enjoyable than being completely in control of a person's body, their motions, the things they were allowed to do. James Moriarty was a man who was always in control of other people, and sometimes not at all in control of himself. It depended on the day, on the swing of his emotions, on the chemical imbalances that sparked that brilliance into life and made him the scariest motherfucker on the street.

Sometimes, someone else had to control him. Just for a while, just long enough to get him focused, to maybe come out the other side of it. And if that meant taking him along for an observation job, that was what Bastian had to do. The fact that it made him twitch every time Jim moved, well. That was just something he had to live with.

It was almost worse when he finally stilled and settled that laser gaze on Bastian as if it could burn straight through him. "I need to go."

"I don't give a shit. Don't move," Bastian murmured, looking sideways at Jim without moving his head. "What part of movement discipline..."

"I need to _go_." His foot was twitching, a steady tap-tap-tap.

"You can hold it for another hour," Bastian dismissed, tilting his head slightly. "Stop it. I know you won't piss yourself."

Jim seemed to consider that very seriously. "I might." Just to prove the point, he supposed, but Bastian could be as much of a bloody-minded dick as he needed to be. Somehow, he didn't think that Jim would actually do it. Westwood, after all.

"You shouldn't have worn that bloody fancy suit. It's a little much for an observation." He settled his eyes onto his binoculars again, steadying his breathing.

For a while, Jim sat there, sulking. The little squirms he gave were... very interesting, in fact. Having control over him was intriguing. "I need to go." Apparently, he thought that repeating himself was going to gain him something.

"Still haven't changed my mind." Even when he felt Jim's knee against his hip, he didn't take his eyes off of the binos.

"Need to go."

It didn't matter how often he said it, Bastian wasn't going to let him do it. He might even continue telling him no after they were done, just to see what it would get him.

"No." And no again and no again, because it kept Jim's focus on the urge to piss and not on ruining his watch.

He held Jim at bay for another twenty minutes.

By that time, the squirms were becoming incredibly sincere. His jaw was tight, eyes burning, and it made Bastian want to ask him about it. Made him want to know how it felt, if he actually was that close to bursting.

Instead, he took his time putting his binos away, and watched Jim from the corner of his eyes. "I could fuck you like that. I wonder if you'd even be able to come."

Oh, that hiss was vicious and dirty. "You wouldn't dare." Except he would. He really would, just for the joy of watching him squirm.

No one else in the world had the sheer balls it would take to try it.

"I thought that was why you kept me on. I dare, sir." He moved fast, reaching out to grab Jim by his hips, hauling him in closer. "Hands and knees."

Fuck, but that was hot. Jim was smoldering with anger, but that didn't stop him from slowly dropping to his knees, hands hitting the floor in front of Bastian's. He might not piss in the Westwood, but he sure as hell didn't mind getting his knees dirty. He crawled forwards half a step and glared up at him, dark eyes full of heat and lust and something like submission. Bastian knew better than to believe that it would last for long, but while it did he would fucking enjoy it.

He slid his fingers down beneath Jim, flicking open the button of his fly, and then the zipper. "Does it ache yet? Is pissing the only thing you can think of?"

Yes. Clearly it was, or he wouldn't be so fucking angry, wouldn't be squirming. He was half-hard, but then, it could just be the urge to piss. Who the fuck knew. "Yes, it aches, you bastard!"

"Just thought I'd ask." He pulled, eased Jim's trousers and pants down in one steady motion past his ass cheeks, thumb tracing the skin. He could hear the faint hiss of Jim's breath, feel the way he shook beneath the touch, and he wondered what it must feel like. Having control of him felt fucking amazing, he knew that much.

He edged the finger in, just a raw nail scrape against Jim's asshole while he reached with his other hand to fish out the lube. Having that on-hand was just a fact of life; there was lube in his kit, lube in Jim's inner coat pocket, lube in the car. There was lube in the fucking kitchen, and Jim whimpered in a way that could only be described as delicious.

"Fuck!"

"Feels good?" He stretched his finger, and dribbled lube against Jim's hole. He pried, pulling and sliding it in and out, watching the way he opened up, slick and clutching around the invading fingers. He was shaking, tensed hard, entire body a fidget away from losing control.

"I hate you!"

Yeah, but he didn't.

"Oh yeah. That's why your ass is practically eating my hand," Bastian smirked, leaning up to press his mouth against the back of Jim's neck. "Now, imagine my dick."

His agitation increased, and Bastian could see him tense, feel the way that he was so very close to losing control entirely. "Hate you," he said again, but it was barely contained. "Hate you sooo oh. Oh fuck."

"Oh, fuck, baby," Bastian hummed against his skin. He pulled his finger back, and squirted probably too much lube onto his dick before he ran a hand sloppily to spread it. This was maybe kind of sadistic -- probably, even -- but he didn't give a fuck. Not when he had Jim on his hands and knees, hissing like an angry cat, flushed and hot and just barely maintaining control of himself.

"Hate y... Nnn!"

He pressed the head of his cock against Jim's familiar little hole, and took his time pressing in past the head. He toyed with him, stretching Jim a little and just enjoying the view because he knew he wasn't going to see it again for a while. A damned long while, and if he fucked in and out of it with tiny little strokes, stretching him, feeling the heat of it, well. The pleasure of it dragged out, and Jim started squirming again, panting and desperate underneath him.

Probably not desperate for his dick, though. At least not the way that he usually was.

He thrust in maybe an inch, two, and clutched his fingers at Jim's hips before he declared, "You can go now."

Go, and he was shuddering beneath him, making sounds that were almost pained, but the sound of piss pattering hard against the floor. Jim was growling, angry and hot and going just a little limp with the relief.

It was fucking gorgeous.


End file.
